


The Prince and the Banquet

by kinkandquiet



Series: Poe and Dorian [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Desperation, Kink, M/M, Omorashi, Watersports, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 08:23:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11055078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinkandquiet/pseuds/kinkandquiet
Summary: The customs of a foreign kingdom dictate that the prince be wrapped in silk, with his hands bound, before the banquet begins. Thus begins a very desperate night for Prince Poe.





	The Prince and the Banquet

When Poe was young and perhaps a bit dramatic, he'd had the idea that the role of a prince bared some resemblance to that of a prisoner. He was not allowed to leave his room without the accompaniment of a guard. He was only allowed to eat what the cooks prepared for him and never anything from the open market. The reverence of his people and the strict hand of his father felt much like a cage.

When Poe was eleven, he had shouted at a bodyguard, "You treat me as a prisoner!"

So Dorian had taken Poe to visit the dungeons.

Poe had stopped comparing the duties of a prince with the desolation of prisoners after that.

Standing in the castle of a foreign kingdom and being bound in silk, the memory came back to him. A servant knelt before him, spinning silk cloth around and around his naked body. 

Poe had long since outgrown any body-shyness. On the precipice of twenty, Prince Poe had taken his place beside his father in ruling Aziola. The King was older now too, mellowed with age, and more often than not it was Poe who represented their kingdom in foreign lands. If he still did so with his favorite bodyguard at his side, well, no one spoke poorly of it. 

That was how Poe found himself, after a long morning of riding into the foreign kingdom's capital, being wrapped in silk from head to toe.

Or, rather, throat to toe. He was fairly certain they weren't trying to suffocate him. There were far simpler ways to assassinate a foreign dignitary. 

"Too tight, Majesty?" the servant girl asked, and Poe realized he'd breathed in a startled breath when the girl wrapped the first layer of silk over his groin.

"Highness," he corrected lightly, gracing her with a smile to let her know he wasn't displeased. It seemed wise not to upset the person currently handling his privates. "You are doing fine. What is your name?"

"I am Naia, Highness." A pleased blush graced Naia's cheeks as she began wrapping his thigh.

The silk _was_ rather tight, but Poe had come to understand that was the purpose. On special occasions, the royalty of Gabarn were wrapped in silks that constricted their movements, servants feeding them by hand at the banquet that followed. It was meant to be a display of loyalty, trust, and power. 

Poe rather preferred the free-flowing clothing of his own country, but he wasn't so ignorant of basic etiquette that he could reject the royal family's decision to include him in their customs.

There was a single knock at the door before it opened, and in stepped Dorian in full uniform. While Poe was naked from his groin on up, Naia twirling the last loops of silk around his left leg, Dorian wore the black uniform of their country, his cuffs and collar accented with silver embroidery. He carried no sword with him, but there was no question in the straight line of the bodyguard's back and in the stretch of his uniform over his biceps that Dorian could take down most threats with ease. The loyalty that was always in his gaze when he looked at the prince said he'd be happy to do it, too.

Poe shifted his hips uncomfortably. There was, apparently, no room in the tight silk wrappings for an inappropriate attraction to one's bodyguard. 

"Highness. The horses are in the stables now. Your entourage waits for you in the banquet hall. Several men have walked the perimeter and tell me--"

"Is that what a servant does?" Poe asked, his eyes glittering teasingly. 

Dorian frowned and pursed his lips. "No, Highness."

"No," Poe agreed easily. "For the kingdoms of Aziola and Gabarn are allies, and as a sign of my trust, I bring with me only unarmed servants."

"And allow yourself to be bound in silk."

"And that."

It seemed the extremities were the most time intensive components of the silk wrappings. Naia had already covered his trim waist and chest in silk before moving on to his left arm. She stopped wrapping at his wrist before working her way back up towards his bare shoulders. Curious. Did he get to keep the use of his hands after all?

"The perimeter--" Dorian pressed on.

"Naia, have you ever walked a perimeter?"

Dorian huffed. "Poe--"

"I haven't, Your Highness." Naia adjusted his arms in front of him before she began to wrap his shoulders.

"Why is that?"

"The kingdom's guards ensure our safety, Highness. I mostly serve the royal family." 

"Ah." Poe smiled as he met Dorian's eyes. "So I see." 

For a moment Dorian looked prepared to argue. He let a breath out through his nose and straightened his shoulders. "As you like it, my prince."

Being the epitome of dignity and grace, Poe managed not to pout. Barely. He so enjoyed bantering with Dorian when the rare opportunity arose, but the guard would only humor him for so long before he gave in to proper decorum and allowed Poe to have his way. 

"And I'm very good at tying knots," Naia said, surprising the prince as she tugged at the tail end of the silk ribbon which was, indeed, tied in a complicated looking knot over his hands. His palms were wrapped together. Poe wiggled his fingers and swung his arms, feeling the constricting cloth shift and squeeze. His range of motion was severely impaired. 

Foreigners had the strangest customs.

"Now you are ready for the banquet, Your Highness." Naia's gaze flickered curiously to Dorian and away again. "And... if it pleases you, I will serve you. Unless you prefer your own servant?" 

Poe thought of Dorian's fingers, pressed against his lips as he fed him. He shifted his weight again. That was... quite inconvenient. His arms and hands were constricted so that he couldn't adjust himself, had there been any room in the wrappings to do so. 

"Thank you, Naia." Poe didn't look at his bodyguard. "I wouldn't want to keep Dorian from his perimeter."

It had been late morning when the prince and his company had arrived in the capital, and though polite greetings and the intricate wrappings of silk had taken at least an hour, it was still only mid-day by the time Poe reached the banquet hall. This was going to be an all day affair, he surmised as Naia pulled out a chair for him at one of the grandiose tables where refreshments were already being placed.

Dorian took up a spot by the door behind Poe, casing the room because he was hopeless, and the revelry began. 

Sometime between the second and third courses of what was promising to be at least a twelve course meal, Poe had time to wish he'd been able to relieve himself before Naia had begun to wrap him in silks. Sometime between the forth and the fifth courses, Poe realized he couldn't relieve himself _now_ without entirely unwrapping the garment.

Naia pressed glasses of red wine to his lips, smiling as she passed a strawberry between his teeth. Poe parted his lips for cider that tasted too much of vinegar, and juice that might have been cranberry. There was meat, and bread, and cheese, all bite sized for the servants to hand-feed the royals. Beyond Poe, all three members of the royal family were wrapped in the white silk, but it didn't make him feel any less ridiculous. 

Interestingly, the Queen's concubine and her youngest son wore the traditional styles of their country. Rather belatedly, Poe realized he probably wasn't as well versed on Gabarn traditions as he ought to be. Gabarn was geographically close but very small and Poe knew far more about the larger military powers in the area. He resolved not to make a fool of himself, so he might learn more in the future. 

The prince accepted each morsel of food and each drink Naia served him. He swallowed glass upon glass of wine, liquid rolling smoothly down his throat, and when he began rejecting the alcohol, his head too fuzzy for his liking, Naia offered him water instead. Each time she pressed the rim of a glass to his lips, Poe tipped his head back and drank until he felt like he might drown.

It might have been twelve courses, or it might have been twenty, but by the time the banquet was quieting down, dishes being taken away and nearly empty jugs of water and wine and juice disappearing back into the kitchens, simply sitting still was requiring a great deal of Poe's energy. He kept his spine straight, his shoulders back and his head high, the picture of composure. When the Queen's eldest daughter peeked at him from behind her long hair, he met her gaze with warmth. When the dignitary sitting across from him spoke somewhat drunkenly of trade tariffs, Poe listened to his ideas and engaged them from the most neutral standpoint possible. It wasn't proper to thank the servants for the food they served, so Poe instead made soft noises of pleasure whenever Naia fed him, leaving her looking pleased with herself. Underneath the table, his legs had been locked together since the seventh course.

His bound hands rested uselessly in his lap. Safe underneath the table, he could have given himself a squeeze without risking his dignity if his hands had been free. As it was, his fingertips plucked ineffectually at the silk wrapped over his groin. 

An overfull bladder wasn't uncommon at banquets. It was quite likely Poe wasn't even the most desperate guest at the table. The guards, he knew, would be pissing up against the outer castle wall as soon as they were dismissed. For royalty, the situation was a bit more complex. It was disgraceful to put the needs of one's own body before the ceremonies and talks that could meet the needs of whole kingdoms. 

That didn't make the pounding that had started up in the prince's bladder any less uncomfortable, or the quivering of his thighs any easier to suppress. But suppress it he did. 

The Queen's speech, which signaled the end of the banquet, meandered from the peace of neighboring kingdoms, to the upcoming marriage of her cousin, to the politics of trade tariffs--which was becoming a theme. Though Poe hadn't learned anything more about Gabarn customs, he at least knew why he'd been invited here. 

"You didn't drink too much, did you, Highness?" Naia asked, her lip caught between her teeth.

Poe's startled. Had she seen his fingertips worrying at his silk-covered thighs beneath the table? Had he been obvious when he wished for each course of the meal to pass faster? Or perhaps the internal litany of pleas: 'it must be over soon, I need relief, I just want to go, how much longer can this possibly last?' had somehow made it past his lips.

But as shame boiled up in his esophagus, the more cognizant parts of his brain parsed what the servant had said, and he realized she only meant the alcohol. 

Poe took the out where he saw it. 

"Perhaps a bit. I may turn in early."

"I offered you too much wine." Naia looked horribly upset.

"No, no," Poe soothed her. "Not at all. Is there... more to the banquet?"

Dear God, he hoped not. His bladder was already brimming with painful liquid and it was likely that most of the wine, juice, and water he'd drank hadn't even had time to filter through his system yet. If he was desperate now, in an hour he might not be able to keep his composure. Still, if there was more that was expected of him that night, the prince would do his duty.

Thankfully, Naia shook her head. "No, Highness. Sometimes after breakfast, Her Majesty likes to speak of politics, but nothing more this late at night."

"I see." Poe politely refrained from cheering.

"I can show you to your quarters," Naia offered. "I wouldn't wish for you to become lost."

"Thank you," Poe said, perhaps with more feeling than necessary, and took her arm.

Naia led him through a series of hallways he vaguely recognized from earlier that day, when he'd first arrived at the castle. Poe walked softly, careful not to show signs of the pangs each step sent through his overfull bladder. His own rooms were behind a grand door, gilded in silver and gold, the floor covered in intricate rugs, a soft breeze coming in from an cracked window, and a bed so plush it looked as if it might drown a person.

Perhaps his head was a little more fuzzy than he expected, because while Poe was distracted by the lavish furnishings, the heavy door creaked behind him. He turned just in time to catch Naia's polite curtsy before she disappeared.

Poe stood in the middle of the luxurious room, bladder pounding, utterly confused. 

He looked between the closed door and his bound hands.

He wiggled his fingers against the silk knot, which did as little as it had been doing all night.

With a sigh, he dropped into a richly upholstered, curved back chair. His bound wrists pressed tentatively against his crotch. 

It didn't seem to be Naia's duty to help him undress. But then, that shouldn't have surprised him. Naia had been at his beck and call since late morning, and the servants here must have had shifts they worked, just as they did at home.

Someone would come. The bindings and complex knot clearly weren't designed to be removed by the wearer. Poe just had to wait.

He could wait.

At least in the privacy of his own rooms, he could let his composure slip. His shoulders slumped as he bent forward, trying and failing to angle his hips so the seat put pressure on his penis. Limber as the prince usually was, and unfortunately practiced in the art of holding his urine, the tight silk wrappings prevented him from moving much. He tried not to think about his need.

He thought instead about Dorian, shirtless, sun-drenched, and sweating during the annual games. He thought about Dorian, dressed in uniform and so close as he stepped between Poe and a foreign guard. He thought about Dorian, standing at his back, muscular arms wrapped around his waist as Poe urinated thunderously. He thought about pissing. He thought about pissing. He thought about pissing. 

No one came.

The sun had already been setting when the banquet had ended and now it was dark. Poe couldn't move his hands adequately to light a lantern, so his room grew dark too.

In the dark, he grew bolder. He shifted to the edge of the chair, his legs splayed outward as he pressed his bound hands against his groin. He thrust up into his wrists twice, falling back with a wince when the silk bindings dug into his expanding bladder. He tensed all of his muscles, clamping his sphincters, and sat very still until his knees began to shake. Soon his knees were bouncing, and then he was fanning his legs in and out. None of this seemed to help his increasing desperation. He needed urgently to hold himself and squeeze back the waves of pressure at the base of his penis, but that simply wasn't possible.

Even if a servant did come soon, the prince was rapidly beginning to doubt his ability to maintain his composure. How long was he expected to wait? 

Even a minute longer suddenly seemed unbearable.

Poe jerked gracelessly onto his feet, the silk wrappings pulling and tightening. As gravity taunted the contents of his full bladder, he shuffled haltingly to the bed. He dropped to his knees on the floor, the sharp jolt sending his bladder into spasms. With his expression twisted in desperation, he leaned forward, arms tucked between his body and the floor, to look under the bed. In the moment before his bladder thrashed tyrannically, he caught sight of the chamber pot, centered perfectly out of reach under the bed. Then he was straightening back up, rocking frantically on his knees.

How was he going to reach the chamber pot when he couldn't even bend over without sending his bladder into convulsions? 

He wasn't. Deeply frustrated, Poe pushed himself back onto his feet. His gaze flicked all around the room. Finally, he found himself staring at a crystal wine glass. Well... it _was_ an emergency. If he could relieve himself even a little, he'd be able to wait however long it was required of him.

The glass had looked empty from a distance, but when Poe hobbled over to it, he discovered it was filled with water. More water was the _last_ thing he needed. 

With some maneuvering, the prince managed to grasp the glass around its stem with just his fingertips. He held it straight out from his chest and moved towards the open window, intending to pour it out. His gait was so unsteady that the glass shook in his grip. Water spilled over his hands, dripping on the rug. 

Oh, God, he needed to pee. The feeling of cool water trickling over his fingers sent his already full bladder into a frenzy. Rivulets trickled over his hands and dripped onto the rug. Poe stopped short in the middle of the room, bending his knees and squeezing his eyes shut, his face a picture of desperation. 

His thighs clamped together, his bladder pulsed, and his hands shook so badly that he dropped the glass. 

"Ohh, God, no, no, no." A small puddle formed. Water began to soak into the thick rug as Poe watched, bent over and cringing. "I need to go!"

For the first time, the prince felt close to leaking. He dropped quickly to his knees, leaning forward just enough to grasp the stem of the glass and stand it upright. The silk wrapped around his bladder still cut shamelessly into his vulnerable flesh.

The glass was small, but if Poe could free himself from his silk confines, it would at least hold something. It wasn't a chamber pot, but it was better than nothing, and he knew from experience that if he let a little out, he'd be able to hold on longer. Perhaps even long enough that he'd be free to use a toilet. 

When he'd reeled himself in enough that he no longer felt he was just on the precipice of letting go, he edged forward on his knees until the glass stood between his thighs. Finally, he fumbled his fingertips against the straps of silk covering his crotch. 

It quickly became clear this wasn't going to work.

If the silk had been wrapped so loosely that Poe could have slid it away, or reached between two of the straps to free himself, it would have been far too indecent to be worn in the first place. The wrappings were taut and snug, and he was hampered by the fact that only his fingertips were free. Poe grappled at the silk wrapped over his cock for long minutes anyway, unable to give in to the inevitable until the next wave of need hit him, and then his body contorted around his lower stomach, tense and still. 

"This is hopeless," Poe moaned, pushing himself to his feet and knocking the glass aside. Even the small amount of relief that a piss into a wine glass would have offered him was out of reach. All his liquid was locked inside his body, and he had no notion of when he'd be able to relieve himself.

He could order a servant to release him, or beg one of the royalty, but both options were rude beyond compare. He could simply _ask_ , but one only made requests of their equals, and Dorian was asleep. Poe had no right to ask anything of Dorian at this hour, especially when he'd been so clear that Dorian wasn't to act as his bodyguard tonight. 

Instead, the prince collapsed onto the edge of the bed, his bound hands pressing against his crotch. He began to rock from side to side as he tried to will the urge to relieve himself away. Surely he could wait. If he hadn't been released from the traditional silk wrappings, the rest of the royalty likely hadn't been either. But then, they also hadn't been on horseback in the sweltering heat all morning. He should have relieved himself after he'd arrived at the castle. If he hadn't allowed himself to become distracted, he wouldn't be in this situation now. He'd earned his discomfort. It was his punishment for being thoughtless. 

Poe slumped sideways onto the bed, his head hitting the feather pillow out of sheer luck, and closed his eyes. 

He slept, or maybe he didn't. He might have dreamed of being awake. He certainly dreamed of being desperate. That too could have been wakeful tossing and turning, the drinks from the banquet running through his system and collecting in his bladder. 

The prince woke again and again from light fits of sleep. Each time he made himself go back to sleep. He rolled on the soft bed, unable to find a comfortable position. At some point in the night, he rolled onto his front and caught his bound hands under his body. His fingers dug into his crotch. Squirming his hips, probably looking quite ridiculous, he managed to squeeze the tip of his penis with two fingers. With a sigh of relief, he closed his eyes.

The next time he woke there were pins and needles tickling all over his arms and his bladder was convulsing.

Poe jerked upright in a panic, squirming and contorting his body until he managed to cross his legs at the thigh. He rocked back and forth on the bed. His bladder twinged and surged, but the silk wrapped around him remained dry. 

When the wave of desperation softened into something less frantic, Poe let out a deeply relieved breath. For a moment he'd felt much too close to just doing it right there. Even now his bladder pulsed constantly and the silk wrapped around his waist was far too tight as his lower stomach stretched to fit everything he'd drank.

He had just caught his breath and was wondering whether he should try to sleep or simply sit up when a new wave of need gripped him. 

"Uhh!" Squeezing every muscle in his body, Poe bent forward, resting his forehead on his knees, writhing his hips the little they would move and trying to outlast the desperate contractions of his bladder once more. 

Seconds later, he threw himself onto his feet, stomping in place. All his twisting and turning was doing nothing to lessen his physical urge. He couldn't stand it! He stomped again, twisting his hips and pressing his wrapped thighs together, and then he was falling over himself to get to the door. 

He couldn't even work the door handle. Poe thrust his bound hands against the wooden door and prayed whoever was posted outside was awake. 

The door opened, and Poe's own servant greeted him, taking in the beads of sweat on the prince's forehead, the lines of tension around his mouth and eyes, and the slight curl of his body.

With great effort, Poe forced himself to straighten up. 

"Your Highness, what do you need?"

"Dorian," Poe said, his voice a practiced, neutral tone even as he was wailing internally. When the servant didn't move immediately, he added a firm: "Now."

The door swung shut, and Poe let his shoulders drop. He doubled over, but doing so only seemed to press the tight constriction of the silk further into his tender bladder.

He _couldn't_ wait any longer. He was a grown man and he was going to beg his bodyguard, the man he was helplessly attracted to, to untie him so he could tinkle.

Poe moaned and sank back into the chair, his head tipping back in misery. He couldn't wait until morning--he didn't even know if the wrappings would come off before breakfast, and then there would be even more to drink. That would be hours from now, anyway, and now that he was fully awake he was desperate to go _right now_. It was too much. He just wanted to pee. He wanted to pee right now. What if he couldn't hold it?

When Dorian stepped through the doorway, his eyebrows were already furrowed in wary concern. He wore a dark blue pair of sleep pants and a shirt that did nothing to hide the musculature of his arms. When he closed the door behind him, he folded his arms over his chest. 

"Am I here as a servant, or as a guard?"

"As my friend." Poe thrust his arms forward. "Untie me."

Dorian approached him slowly--everything felt far too slow for the desperate prince. He gave the knot tied over Poe's hands a serious look.

"I don't think friends are required to work the night shift, Highness," Dorian said even as he began to tug on the knot.

"I know," Poe moaned. "I'm _sorry_. I tried to sleep!"

"But you're too uncomfortable," Dorian filled in for him. He wasn't getting anywhere quickly with the fancy knot.

Oh, how Poe wanted to let that lie sit. Dorian wasn't even entirely wrong, because Poe was so uncomfortable he could hardly breathe. But...

"You can laugh," Poe said.

Dorian glanced up from the knot, one eyebrow raised. "Okay?"

"I have to pee terribly. I've had to all night and I can't stand it any longer."

Dorian didn't laugh. He blinked a few times, his hands paused over the fancy knot. Then a smile pulled at his lips.

"You can laugh," Poe snapped, blushing all over. 

"I'm not going to laugh." Dorian worked his fingers around the silk of the knot, a slight smile gracing his lips the whole time. "Just brings back memories, that's all."

Poe blushed darker, if that was even possible. At least his extreme embarrassment was a distraction.

"That was four years ago," Poe defended himself, as if pissing yourself at fifteen was somehow more defensible than at nineteen. He winced, realizing it really wasn't. "It's not that I can't hold it! I can. I could. I do! All the time. I just can't hold it from one sunrise to the next."

"No one can," Dorian agreed easily, apparently not interested in making this more embarrassing than it already was. Which was fine--it was plenty embarrassing anyway. "Is that how long you've been holding?"

"I... Well, sunrise to sunset anyway." Poe shifted his hips on the chair, trying and failing to thrust down and achieve some pressure on his crotch. 

"You didn't call for a break when we arrived in the capital?"

"I did. But then I got caught up talking to the Queen, and her servants started bringing in silks for her, and then they started bringing in silks for _me_ , and I didn't realize the bindings weren't going to come off. I could have restrained myself through the banquet; that wouldn't have been a problem. I did restrain myself through the banquet."

"Calm down." Poe jumped when Dorian touched the side of his head, stroking his hair once. "No one questions your ability to deny yourself for however long you're expected to, Highness. Certainly not myself."

Poe let out an unsteady breath, some of his anxiety tapering off. Dorian didn't think he was spoiled or childish. It comforted him more than it should have. 

"She really was very good at tying knots," Dorian noted.

Poe groaned.

The longer Dorian worked at the knot in silence, the worse Poe's need became. His embarrassment had been distracting, but now he could think of nothing but the steady throbbing of his bladder. It seemed to reverberate, getting louder and faster--like a heartbeat, like a church bell, like standing on the edge of the ocean and hearing the waves crash in.

Poe groaned again.

"Can we cut it?" Dorian asked.

"No. You have to wrap me back up after. I mustn’t disrespect their customs."

"It'd be faster," Dorian pointed out.

Poe just sighed and let his head fall back, his knees spreading out and his ass sliding down on the chair so that Dorian was between his legs. The position allowed him to press his stretched arms against his groin, at least, which Poe did thankfully. Dorian went along with it, working on the knot where it was now squeezed between the prince's legs. 

As seconds ticked by, Poe knees began to shake. He rolled his head on the back of the chair. "Uhnn..."

"You're all right, Highness," Dorian soothed, surprisingly close now that he was tucked between Poe's spread thighs. 

"I'm really not." Poe pressed his heels into the ground, gritting his teeth and putting all his effort into being still. Moments later he started scissoring his legs again. "Oh God, Dorian. I'm dying here."

Dorian just made a soft noise, still working at the knot with single-minded focus. 

Poe began shifting his hips on the chair to distract himself, jerking his groin up into the pressure his tied wrists provided and then letting his ass brush the chair before thrusting up again. 

Dorian caught his hip in one big hand and pressed him right back into the chair.

"Please?" Poe tried to move his hips and found that Dorian held him easily in place. 

"Do you want me working on this knot with one hand, or two?" 

Poe let his ass hit the chair. "I can't help it. I'm too desperate to stand it. I can't even hold myself."

"If you were in public right now, you'd be still as a statue."

"Yes, right up until I _wet myself_."

Poe was putting all his effort into holding still for Dorian and it was hardly doing him any good at this point. His knees still moved in and out minutely, his heels pressing hard into the floor, the muscles of his ass squeezed so tightly it was hardly brushing the chair. At least his hips were still, which seemed to satisfy Dorian.

Then the need came crashing over him in a wave so powerful Poe's hips jerked right off the chair. He nearly managed to smash his groin into Dorian's face, something which he would be extremely embarrassed about at some later point. Right now, he was on his feet, bent over and contorting around his lower stomach as he rubbed his silk-clad thighs together, his still bound hands grappling uselessly at his crotch. 

"Highness..." Dorian said, and Poe made a noise that sounded far too close to a sob.

"I'm going to burst! I'm going to pee. I need to. I just want to pee."

"Highness, may I touch you?"

Poe had no idea what he meant. He must have nodded though, because in an instant he was being torn away from the precipice of an accident. Through the silk, Dorian's hand wrapped firmly around his penis, his thumb pressing reassuringly over the tip. 

Poe nearly collapsed. "Oh God, thank you, thank you, _thank you_." 

Poe, who had been needing to grab himself all day and who had only managed the pinch of two fingers hours ago, was so thankful for Dorian's steady grip that it took him ages to fully comprehend--Dorian was touching his dick. Dorian, the extremely attractive bodyguard who Poe had been quietly lusting after since he'd been old enough to lust, was _touching his dick_.

"Oh my God," Poe gasped out for a completely different reason. There was absolutely no room in the tight silk to grow hard, and even so he needed to pee too badly for that to be an issue. Despite his embarrassment and the agony of his bladder pulsing under all that silk, this was still the most arousing moment of his young life. 

"Forgive me," Dorian said as he worked at the knot with one hand now. The thick loops of silk seemed to have loosened, though it might have been wishful thinking. 

"Just don't let go," Poe pleaded, aware he was asking for more than either a bodyguard, a servant, or a friend owed him now.

Dorian agreed easily. "All right, I'm not going to. Just try to stand still, Your Highness... there."

The knot loosened and unraveled. As soon as Poe could move his hands, he jammed them into his crotch, grasping his cock between his hands when Dorian let go. He squeezed himself, bending over and moaning nonsense as Dorian began to unravel the silk in long swoops from his arms. 

The ribbons of silk came off far quicker than they had gone on, encouraged by Poe's quiet moaning and Dorian's quick hands. Soon, his arms were bare, then his chest, and then, despite the fact that Poe had both hands wrapped around his cock, he was peeing.

Poe jerked back, squeezing himself for dear life, and looked down in horror to find himself completely dry.

The sudden feeling of pressure releasing was just the first layer of silk around his bladder unwrapping. Where the silk had once fit firmly around his trim waist, now his bladder was swollen and distended, protruding noticeably over his silk-wrapped abdomen.

Wordlessly, Poe shuffled back into Dorian's space. He allowed his bodyguard to continue unwrapping the silk, and with each ribbon that released his bladder had more space to stretch. Shivers ran up his spine. The removal of intense pressure felt so good he could have been pissing. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. When his stomach was totally unwrapped it was rounded with the contents of his overfull bladder, a hard ball of piss where it had once been flat.

Dorian whistled. 

Poe wanted to laugh, but he didn't dare. His bladder was pulsing, his legs were crossed, his fists were clenched--his ears were ringing.

Dorian stopped. He held the length of silk in his frozen hand, his handsome face white.

It took long moments, sounds moving like molasses through the prince's desperate body, before he realized the ringing wasn't inside his ears.

A bell. A bell to signal fire. A bell to wake the whole castle. A bell that called the prince and all his men to the courtyard.

"No! Oh, no, no, no, this can't be happening."

"What do you want me to do?" Dorian looked between the length of silk in his hand and Poe's naked upper body. 

Outside, Poe could hear the sound of feet slapping down the hall, those guards and servants who had already been awake making for the courtyard.

"Ugh! Wrap me back up." Poe crossed his legs anxiously as he kept his eyes on the door. "Quickly, Dorian, before anyone sees me."

A tense twitch of Dorian's jaw was the only outward sign of his reaction before he began moving quickly in the opposite direction, winding the silk back around Poe's body. 

It was only moments before Dorian reached the mound of Poe's bladder. His firm touch, along with the taut strength of the silk, compressed the base of Poe's bladder, pushing the liquid in, and up, and _out_.

"Stop!" With nowhere else to go, urine burst out of him and into the silk, a wet patch blooming where his penis was trapped under the cloth. 

As soon as the seal had been broken, Poe was in danger of pissing all down his legs, soaking the silk and creating a great puddle right there in front of Dorian. 

He wouldn't. He _would not_. The prince crushed the thought of relief, drawing upon all his resources to control himself. Without the tight silk wrappings, there was more room for his bladder to expand. He could manage. He wasn't going to wet himself. He wouldn't allow it. 

"My prince..." Dorian held the silk in one hand, his brows furrowed in concern at the prince's obvious distress.

In the hallway, the sound of feet could be heard clearly now, more servants, royals, and guards woken and making their way out of the castle.

"Gently," Poe said through grinding teeth. "Just, please? Gently."

Dorian flinched, preparing the next length of silk. "Yes, Highness."

As gently as Dorian wrapped the silk over Poe's bladder, even the slight pressure nearly sent the prince into fits. He knew Dorian was being as gentle as possible, holding the length of silk in one hand and using the other to spread it over the prince's swollen bladder. Still every touch was agony when he'd waited so long and been so close to relief. 

Poe had hardly thought he could control himself long enough for Dorian to unwrap the silk, and now he was letting Dorian wrap him again, uncertain when there would be another chance for relief. It was the second time that day he had allowed someone to bind him without first emptying his bladder, and both had been entirely his own fault. 

"It won't be long," Dorian's soothed as he finished wrapping Poe's midsection, the ribbons of silk quite obviously looser than before. "It's likely just a spilled lantern. No one would be cooking this late. The fire must be a tiny thing. It won't be long."

"It's already been too long," Poe protested miserably. "God, I just wanted to let go!"

"I'm sure it will be soon, Highness."

The silk flowed through Dorian's hands, wrapping Poe's skin strip by strip. When finally he reached the prince's wrists, the sound of the bedroom door creaking open startled them both. 

Dorian swung on his knees, trusting that his body blocked the sight of the prince's unbound hands from the doorway. 

If the foreign guard in the doorway was surprised by Dorian's presence in the prince's private chambers, he didn't show it. Instead he bowed deeply. 

"Your Highness, we must evacuate to the courtyard. The bell signals--"

"I have him," Dorian interrupted. "You will close the door behind you."

The young guard frowned, glancing between the prince and Dorian in a manner that set Dorian on edge. 

"For your own safety, Highness, it's--"

"I am the prince's personal guard," Dorian said, "And _I have him_."

"...Sir!" The guard cast a final look behind Dorian before he seemed to shake himself and tugged the door shut with a bang.

Dorian let out a breath.

When he turned back around, Poe was doubled over, both hands jammed between his thighs and his eyes squeezed shut. Dorian reached out to touch one delicate arm, feeling guilt. "Highness, I need to wrap your hands."

Poe shook his head wordlessly, not daring to open his eyes. His whole face was twisted up in desperation, sweat gathering on his brow.

Dorian bit his tongue and waited, aware that the door could open again at any moment. He waited, but the prince only hunched over further, his legs crossing more tightly until he was crouched in an agonized curtsy, every muscle seemingly clenched.

"Your hands, Poe."

"If I let go, I think I'll lose it right here." The prince squeezed himself fretfully. "I'll shame myself."

Poe jumped when Dorian's large hand clamped over his.

"You won't shame yourself. You've never shamed anyone in your life, for God's sake." Dorian's hand squeezed Poe's as he began to wrap the prince's wrists together. "You will let me wrap your hands, as this ridiculous custom demands. We will walk to courtyard, and we will wait to hear that the fire is out and the castle is safe. When we are allowed back inside, I will come back to your quarters with you. I will unwrap these silks-- _again_ \--and when I have, you will relieve yourself. No one but myself will know anything of it. Now give me your hands."

Poe gave Dorian his hands.

Dorian kept one palm pressed against the bulge of the prince's crotch, providing much needed pressure as he bound Poe's hands. At last he tied a knot, simpler than the decorative one that had been there before but no doubt quicker to unwind.

Poe's bladder stormed under the silk wraps when Dorian removed his palm, leaving the prince feeling vulnerable and exposed. Still, he did not wet himself. 

Standing with a hand on the Poe's back, Dorian pushed gently. "Walk."

"You're very confident." Poe moved forward like a newborn colt, his thighs pressed so tightly together it was difficult to balance.

"I am." Dorian opened the door for him, waiting patiently while Poe edged forward.

"If I... if I wet myself in your company, you'll be shamed as well."

"You won't wet yourself." Dorian kept a steady hand on the prince's back as they moved down the hallway. "It would be best not to speak of it now. We are not in private."

They weren't the only ones making their way down the hall. Poe nodded, took a shallow breath, and schooled his expression into one of polite disinterest. 

They moved through the halls of the foreign castle and down the flight of stairs, stopping halfway down for Poe to breathe and regain control over himself. Outside, the courtyard was already brimming with people. The prince stood straight, though his bladder thrashed inside him. He did not bend his knees as he wanted to. He did not press his bound hands to his crotch. He did not shift his weight from foot to foot or rock back and forth. He didn't pace, or prance, or double over, or tap his feet. His face was a neutral mask, telling nothing of the turmoil underneath. 

If time passed, Poe couldn't track it. He felt caught in eternal desperation. The people speaking around him meant nothing. Even Dorian's hand on his back ceased to comfort him. All he could feel were the motions of his overfull bladder. Though his lips were pressed into stubborn silence, a helpless litany built at the back of his throat: 'I need to pee, I need to pee, oh God, I just need to pee now, please, please, I have to, I can't hold it any longer.'

Dorian bumped his shoulder, making Poe gasp. When he looked around it seemed that everyone, even the royals, has begun to make themselves comfortable on the grass. At his feet, a guard was gulping from a flask.

Dorian's voice barely reached him over his internal litany of pleas. "Highness, would you be more comfortable if you sat?"

Poe gulped, his hands trembling in their bindings. He stood on well-watered grass. If he has been dressed in the traditional clothing of his own country, or even in a night gown, he could have dropped to his knees and pissed a waterfall between his spread legs. The liquid would have soaked into the ground and relief would have washed over him in waves as no one around was the wiser. The thought of it tore a moan from his throat.

The guard seated at his feet looked up, lifting his flask as if in salute. The contents sloshed inside.

"Bloody disorganized, aren't they?" The guard offered. "Middle of the night, waking up all the royals for a little fire. Ridiculous!"

Dorian took his hand off Poe's back to grab the guard by the arm. He dragged the unsteady soldier to his feet in one quick motion.

"You're drunk on the job."

"I'm not!" The guard crowed, looking frantically between Dorian and the prince. "It's my night off. It is!" 

"And that permits you to speak to His Highness as if he were your equal?"

"Didn't mean anything by it," the guard protested, his face twisting with guilt as he looked at Poe. With a shove, Dorian let him go, and the guard took a knee in front of the prince. In the scuffle, he dropped his flask. 

_No!_

Whiskey gushed out of the flask, puddling in the grass before it began to soak into the dirt, turning it dark and moist as more alcohol spilled and puddled.

The impact of the packed dirt with his knees sent tremors through Poe's bladder as he dropped to the ground, his whole body coiling around his lower stomach. His useless, bound hands pressed into his crotch, providing none of the external pressure he suddenly needed to stop the urine from pouring out of him like alcohol from the flask. Poe couldn't look away as the flask emptied and his bladder remained painfully full. 

"Um," said the guard, clearly confused that kneeling had caused the prince to kneel as well.

Poe was too close to losing control to grasp for his composure. Urine was rolling in waves in his bladder. Everything he'd drunk, from flasks of fresh water during the ride to the palace, from crystal glasses of wine during the banquet and sweet juice pressed to his lips, felt as if it was crashing all at once into the wall of his bladder, a tidal wave of need. 

He couldn't hold it any longer! He had to go now! He was going to go now, silk and crowd and shame be damned. 

Above him, Dorian shoved at the drunken guard's shoulder. "Out of his sight."

Throwing one last glance at the kneeling prince--a sight very few ever saw--the guard took the opportunity to escape. Dorian took the spot in front of his prince as soon as the guard moved, hoping to block curious onlookers. Poe was visibly distressed. There was nothing Dorian could do about that fact that they were surrounded by a crowd, a chatting young royal to the prince's left and a foreign servant blocking him in on the right. 

Kicking the now empty flask away, Dorian looked at the bowed head of his kneeling prince. Despite the prince's desperation, Dorian was surprised Poe had woken him. Surprised, but pleased. His Highness rarely asked Dorian for anything he actually needed, even when Dorian was awake and on duty. It shouldn't have been that way, and Dorian only wished Poe had sent for him earlier. 

After a moment's hesitation, he dropped his hand onto the prince's head and stroked his hair.

Poe made a low, hurt noise. In any other situation, it would have signaled the need for Dorian to protect him. It put him on alert even now, his hand reaching for his weapon before he recalled he was unarmed, and then a moment later, he recalled they weren't even in danger. 

Dorian took a knee, leaning in to hear what the prince was whispering.

"Please, please, please, please, please, please, plea--"

Dorian jerked back as if he'd been slapped. It felt awful not to provide the prince with what he needed. If felt even worse not to provide him with something he was pleading for. It was Dorian's duty, and he _liked_ his duty.

"I'm sorry," Dorian murmured in the same private tone. "Poe..."

"Please." Poe's voice had gone high and thin. "Oh God please. I'm going to burst. I'm going to pee."

Dorian let his hand stroke through Poe's hair and onto his trembling back. He hated not knowing what to do for Poe. He couldn't undress Poe in the courtyard, in front of foreign royalty and his own entourage alike, and until Dorian helped him undress, Poe couldn't relieve himself. 

The only way Poe could relieve himself was to piss all down the silk of his binding garment, and even if no one noticed the wet silks or the puddle that would undoubtedly make, in the morning light a yellow stain on white silk would be apparent to all. 

So Dorian just kept rubbing his back, murmuring, "You have to wait. You just have to hold it. It's only a few minutes." And as those minutes passed, making a liar out of him, he kept on talking, "Just wait a little while longer. You can wait another minute. You're going to be fine."

When word finally came that the castle was safe, and it really had just been a spilled lantern, Dorian had no idea whether Poe had already wet himself or not. The prince was curled up on the ground, deaf to the announcement. Dorian placed his hands on Poe's shoulders, trying to urge him to stand as the people around them began to disperse.

"Is your young prince quite alright?" A man Dorian didn't recognize asked, drawing the attention of several others who were near enough to hear. The man looked at Poe and tilted his head. "Has he no lover?"

"What?" Dorian asked, his grip on Poe's shoulders tightening.

"Does no one love him?" asked the man. "He still wears the silks. Only a lover can unbind them. He has no one?" 

It wasn't that the prince had no one. He had a retinue of guards, servants to meet his every need, and the largest military in the region, with soldiers who swore fealty not only to their king but to their prince as well. And, for whatever it was worth, Poe had Dorian. But it was true that the prince showed little interest in marriage or even courting. Dorian had never asked why.

"I would do it." The man's mouth shifted into a leer. "I could love a prince. I could love him right."

"Step away from him," Dorian commanded, steel slipping into his tone, "and you'll live to love another."

The man took his advice with satisfying speed.

In Dorian's hold, Poe was grasping at the threads of his control. He didn't know how long they had been in the courtyard, or how long it had been since the banquet, or since the first sip of water he'd had on the road. He could only feel how very close he was to releasing a flood all over himself and the ground.

His bladder no longer surged with waves of urgency, but had been swept up in a constant and ever rising convulsion, as if it was in a metal clamp and with every moment the handle was being turned and the clamp squeezing tighter. 

He heard Dorian say "Don't squirm," and he wasn't any more. All his shifting, squirming, pacing desperation had gathered and focused into a single, still point. His body ached and urine filled his urethra. Unable to squeeze it back, he leaked and left a damp spot where the tip of his penis touched silk. 

Gravity shifted and all the liquid inside him shifted with it. When Poe blinked open his eyes, he could see Dorian's chest. He realized, in a distant sort of way, that the bodyguard was carrying him. That was nice of him. Dorian was nice. 

Poe's bound hands and arms rested uselessly over his stomach as he rolled his head, smashing his temple against Dorian's chest to get his attention. "Dorian? I-I need a toilet. I need... I need it, something. _Now_ , right now."

Dorian shushed him. Poe didn't know if that meant there would be relief in his future or not. He wanted to say more. He wanted Dorian to understand that he wasn't asking because he wanted to pee--though he did--but because his muscles were so exhausted that he could feel his body about to give out, whether he permitted it or not.

When Dorian set him on his feet, it was not in front of a toilet, or a chamber pot, or even an empty glass. Poe tried to warn him, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a moan as an urgent wave rolled over him and out of him, a torrent of piss rushing into the silk surrounding his cock. His bladder contracted, and Poe crumpled to his knees as he felt liquid soak through the silk and trickle, in pathetically small droplets, onto the rug below. 

"I..."

"That's all right, Your Highness." Dorian untangled the silk where he'd knotted it between Poe's hands.

His hands suddenly free, Poe jammed them into his crotch, but the fabric was soaking wet to the touch, drenched through, and even as he managed to curl a fist around his penis, another burst of hot liquid was soaking through and wetting his hand.

"Uhn! I can't stop!"

"That's all right, love," Dorian said again. 

His bladder kept rejecting liquid, gushing into the silk over his thighs and down his legs until it soaked in pattering streams into the thick rug below. He _knew_ it wasn't all right, no matter what Dorian said, but he also couldn't stop himself.

When Dorian's fingers brushed the swollen shape of his bladder, Poe lost control for a full three seconds, a torrent splashing out. Suddenly Poe was soaked, and Dorian was cupping his swollen bladder like it was a particularly ripe melon he was interested in purchasing and not the source of all Poe's agony. 

He leaked and leaked and Dorian just kept unwinding until, not for the first time that night, Dorian's large hand was wrapped around his penis, skin on skin. 

So Poe peed on Dorian's hand. His face was burning. If his bladder didn't burst and kill him, the humiliation certainly would. 

He thought he should apologize. He tried to. The noise he made didn't sound like words, remorseful or otherwise, and a rivulet streamed over the thick veins on the back of Dorian's hand.

Dorian was pushing him towards the open window.

"I know, I know. But it's just a few steps. You can do it."

He absolutely couldn't do it, and then he was at the window anyway. Dorian was pressed up against his back, the windowpane cutting across his still silk-wrapped thighs as Dorian cradled his cock.

Poe's body understood before he did. His bladder burst and sprayed out the window before he even realized that he wasn't leaking anymore, he was _allowed_ to let go now. Piss splashed two stories below. The hissing and splattering had his bladder convulsing, purging even more liquid at the sound of its own release. 

When Poe understood he could let go, he very nearly collapsed and ruined the whole thing. Dorian hooked an arm around his chest. Relief poured over him and out of him, tears forming on his eyelashes, his lips parted in slack-mouthed bliss. Dorian was holding his cock and it felt orgasmic. Dorian was holding his cock, and he could _pee_ , he could finally pee, thank God.

The pure relief of emptying his bladder after holding it in for so long was all Poe could comprehend for a long time. Piss just kept rushing out of him, streaming out the window, disappearing into the dark, and splashing on the ground. The air was cold and Dorian was warm at his back. The night was dark and beyond the sounds of his own relief there were crickets chirping.

He was still going at full stream when he gathered himself enough to speak. "I'm so incredibly sorry."

The arm Dorian had locked around his chest loosened, and his hand came to rest over Poe's tender lower stomach.. 

"Just relax and feel good, Highness." Dorian's hand pressed down, which only made the stream arc higher and hiss louder.

"So good," Poe sighed, the freedom of relief making him dizzy with pleasure.

They stood, Poe's stream disappearing into the dark, splattering somewhere unseen, until finally his bladder was empty. Dorian shook his penis, like his clothing and his skin weren't already soaked, before he pulled Poe away from the window. Instead of reaching for the silk still wrapped around Poe's legs, or settling him onto the plush bed, Dorian leaned him against the wall beside the window and moved to stand where Poe had just been.

"I think I need to piss just out of sympathy," Dorian said as he pulled down the waistband of his sleep pants, one hand on his cock. "That all right, Your Highness?"

Today, Dorian touched his cock (more than once!), Poe got to pee (finally!), and then Poe got to see Dorian's cock. 

Today was a beautiful day.

Whatever noise Poe made, Dorian must have taken it as permission, because a moment later he was pissing out the window. Poe watched the thick stream disappear into the night, hearing the crickets and the splashing below and trying not to stare at the organ in Dorian's hand too obviously. 

He may or may not have succeeded. 

He was certainly watching when Dorian finished and tucked himself back into his pants, which seemed like a great loss to the world. It was possible that Poe whined, but he really couldn't seem to control himself right then.

Dorian took him by the shoulders and steered him towards the bed. The silk was unwrapped just far enough to free his cock, everything below still encased in now wet fabric, so Dorian began to unwrap him once more. Poe lay on the bed and let him. The fabric made squelching, wet noises. By the time Dorian had freed his pelvis and each leg, Poe was fairly certain he could master the English language once more.

"Dorian, I'm so--"

"Sorry?" Dorian finished for him. He took a seat on the bed, looking down at his prince. Poe couldn't find the energy to care that he was naked and damp. He felt cracked open on a far deeper level.

"Yes." 

"You should be." Poe winced even though he knew Dorian was right--dear God was he right. But Dorian just went on: "The size of your bladder would make any man feel inadequate."

Poe demonstrated his mastery of the English language by saying "You're... adequate."

Dorian's eyes said he was laughing at his prince. 

Poe wanted to lose himself in the pleasant, dazed aftermath, like they'd just finished something far more intimate than pissing, but anxiety still nagged at him, keeping him tense and shameful.

"The silk will stain."

Dorian made an inquiring noise. 

"I'll have to put it back on. In the morning, I have to." Poe shuddered at the thought.

"In the courtyard, a man told me: the tradition is, anyone who loves you may unwrap the silk. You brought seventeen men and women with you. Every one of us loves you." Dorian paused. "Though, had you shared your chambers with a lady... or a lad, you might have saved yourself the trouble."

Poe wanted to ask what Dorian meant. He wanted to know if Dorian loved his prince, or if Dorian loved _Poe_. He hadn't the right to ask that. 

Instead, he said, "You were perfectly adequate."

He could feel it when Dorian scoffed, and then the bed dipped and Poe was rolled towards the center as Dorian's substantial weight settled beside him. Dorian stretched out like he planned on staying for awhile, one arm resting above Poe's head, fingers playing lightly with his hair.

"What are you doing?"

"Guarding your body, Highness," Dorian said. "It needs all the help it can get, the way you treat it."

At last, Poe gave in to dazed pleasure, turning his head to muffle his laughter in Dorian's bicep.


End file.
